


The Anti-Diet

by neko_fish



Series: Starfleet University [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anti-dieting, Crack, F/M, Humor, M/M, Snacks & Snack Food, Stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neko_fish/pseuds/neko_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Leonard helps Jim regain a little weight, and Jim stereotypes his friends just because he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anti-Diet

**Author's Note:**

> There's even art for this now! Hooray! You can find a link to the awesomeness in the end notes.

Jim’s lost a lot of weight, Leonard notices, with no small amount of concern.  His cheeks have hollowed and his ribs are visible; all in all, he looks like a very malnourished engineering student. But then again, after two back-to-back lab parties spanning over the duration of five days, it’s a miracle that he’s still alive, really.  
   
Alive, but way too skinny.  
   
Not only that, but Jim’s body and mind seemed to be stuck in conservation mode, eating only morsels of food at a time and sipping water from his water bottle like a hamster.  
   
Leonard doesn’t mind too much at first. He has no doubt that Jim will ease back into real life with time. For once, it's not Jim’s fault; Leonard figures he’d have trouble easing back into real life after days of breathing nothing but Febreze scented air and listening to the soft droning of computers and dying students as well. Jim just needs a little time, Leonard thinks to himself with a nod, feeling quite mature and sage at that point.  
   
The feeling doesn’t last very long.  
   
He quickly changes his mind when Jim pounces on him while he’s lying on the couch one day. It’s a playful gesture, sure, but it also causes his vision to go blurry from the immense pain that immediately followed. It felt like someone just attacked him with caribou antlers. The bruises on his body afterwards tell a similar story.  
   
“Has Kirk been poking you with sticks again?” Nyota asks when he shows her the bruises on his ribs. He’s only showing her because he winces every time he moves and she wanted to know why.  
   
“Nope, it wasn’t sticks that did this,” he answers. “He hasn’t picked up a stick since the ‘dog incident’, remember? It wasn’t sticks.”  
   
Nyota frowns. “I’ll step in if your relationship’s becoming abusive, Leonard.”  
   
Everyone knows that Nyota has a protective streak when it comes to her sassy pre-med friend.  
   
Leonard snorts at the idea of scrawny Jim attacking him and reassures her, “It’s nothing like that, darlin’. I promise. Have you seen how skinny Jim’s gotten lately?”  
   
She nods, not looking entirely convinced.  
   
“Yeah, well, he thought it’d be fun to jump and sit on me yesterday,” Leonard explains.  
   
“And this happened?” She blinks and studies his bruises again and arches a brow. “All of this? Really? It’s that bad?”  
   
“At this point, the Tin Man from Oz is probably more huggable than Jim,” he grumbles. “This bruise right here? His scrawny butt did that.”  
   
Sympathetically, Nyota gives him a hug.  
   
He tries his best not to wince.  
   
\--  
   
Ever since the ‘”other” couch incident’, Leonard has made it his personal mission to help Jim regain some weight. He’s tried using the ‘you’re too skinny, it’s unhealthy’ appeal, the ‘you’re too skinny, it’s not a good look on you’ appeal, the ‘you’re too skinny, even Chekov’s got more meat on his bones’ approach, the ‘you’re too skinny, it physically hurts’ approach, and the ‘you’re too skinny, I’m worried’ approach. They all resulted in Jim shaking his head and saying, “Sorry, Bones, I’m just not hungry.”  
   
On this particular morning, he decides to approach it from a different angle and says, “You know, last night, I’m pretty sure your weight loss is affecting your performance.”  
   
Jim arches a brow. “What are you talking about, Bones?” He pulls his waistband outwards and takes a look down his pants—just in case, and concludes, “Captain Kirk’s perfectly fine—as always. And besides,  _you’re_  the one who practically passed out after last night’s festivities.”  
   
“I did not—shut up! I was tired from a full day of classes,” he protests.  
   
It’s becoming evident to him now that his plan’s backfiring on him in the most embarrassing way possible. And not for the first time in his life, he wishes he’d kept his big mouth shut.  
   
“Uh huh, of course you were. I told you, you need more exercise, Bones. You should go jogging with Christine or something,” Jim says teasingly. Licking his lips, he adds, “I think you’d look very attractive running around and panting in spandex shorts. In fact, I think you should seriously consider taking up the sport. I’ll be your number one fan.”  
   
“Running’s not a sport—it’s a way of escaping wild animals and angry people,” he retorts. “Besides, Christine goes running with Carol Marcus. You know, her friend and pen-pal from way back when that just transferred here from London? The one who ‘heard all about you and your ways’ from Christine? Anyway, I don’t see the appeal in being shown up by Christine and the dean’s daughter, so thanks, but no thanks. I prefer going through life-shatteringly embarrassing moments alone and unobserved.”  
   
“Does that mean I’m not allowed to watch either?” Jim asks,  _not_  eating his omelette.  
   
Leonard pushes Jim’s plate forward. “Finish your breakfast and I’ll consider it.”  
   
Jim shakes his head and pushes it back. “Sorry, Bones, I’m just not hungry.”  
   
\--  
   
“It’s so  _frustrating_! He won’t eat more than two mouthfuls of anything! Never mind regaining weight, he needs the nutrients before he withers away and gets carried off by a light breeze! Can’t you try talking to him or something, Spock?” Leonard complains over lunch.  
   
He knows he’s getting desperate when he consults Spock on social and relationship matters, but drastic times do call for drastic measures, and this situation is nothing if not drastic.  
   
Spock seems to understand this and gives him a sympathetic eyebrow raise which can easily be mistaken for his unimpressed eyebrow raise, but at this point—disconcerting as it is—Leonard’s come to know the man well enough to tell which is which. “I, too, share your concerns, Leonard,” Spock tells him. “I have also tried offering Jim a portion of my own lunch but was declined on the basis that he was ‘not hungry’.”  
   
Leonard sits up and looks over at Spock’s homemade lunch. The man’s colourful salad looks a lot better than his ‘plate of stuff’ from the mess which may or may not be a slab of molten meat loaf covered in liquefied veggies. “What is that, anyway? I’ve been meaning to ask for awhile now. You and Nyota always have such fancy lunches.”  
   
Spock arches a brow, in an unimpressed manner this time, and looks down at his lunch then back up at Leonard. “This is a simple Harvest Salad with maple dressing. It contains chopped walnuts, organic spinach, cranberries, crumbled blue cheese, real Canadian maple syrup, balsamic vinegar, Dijon mustard, extra-virgin olive oil, freshly ground black pepper, and a pinch of salt. Would you like the recipe?”  
   
He’s begrudgingly impressed. “You just  _told_  me the recipe. Did Nyota make it?”  
   
“No. I was the one responsible for preparing our midday meal today. We alternate and occasionally dine out at restaurants where we have had pleasant past experiences, or that we have yet to try but, as you would say, ‘had our eye on’,” Spock explains to him.  
   
“Oh,” he says, pushing his ‘food’ around the plate with his fork, “that’s nice.”  
   
The only ‘lunch alternates’ he ever had were eating out, trying his luck with the food from the mess, and the occasional sandwich which only happened when there was bread, some sort of meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes—so practically, never. He really needs to adopt a healthier diet, Leonard thinks.  
   
“Judging by your reaction and my observations of your eating habits, I feel it safe to assume that you and Jim do not have such a system in place,” Spock says before taking a bite of his multi-coloured salad. His voice may sound completely neutral, but Leonard knows he’s being smug about it.  
   
Leonard can’t help being a little jealous of Nyota if only because she gets amazing packed lunches and he doesn’t. It’s no wonder Christine used to have such a huge crush on Spock (it’s something he’s sworn to secrecy on the threat of ‘or else’).  
   
“We don’t cook much. And right now, it’s hard enough trying to get Jim to eat,” he grumbles, keeping his eyes trained on his own lunch to stop his mouth from watering.  
   
“That is a point well made. Have you tried feeding him discreetly in a way where Jim fails to notice that he is eating?” Spock asks.  
   
Leonard heaves a sigh and gives up on his lunch. “I’ve done everything short of injecting nutrients into his veins in his sleep. What exactly do you mean by ‘discreetly’? I’ve tried getting him to spread out his meals instead, but—oh. Oh.  _Oh_.”  
   
“‘Oh-oh-oh’? It would appear that you have devised a plan,” Spock says before scooping more fancy pants salad into his mouth.  
   
It’s then that Leonard notices that he’s never seen Spock speak with food in his mouth before.   
  
“Uhh, yeah. Hey, Spock?” he asks, trying to catch the other mid-bite.  
   
Spock pauses and swallows before answering, “Yes, Leonard?”  
   
He blinks, distracted by how well-mannered his friend is. The realization comes both as a surprise and yet is completely expected. It’s no wonder Spock and Nyota ended up together, he thinks, the classy pair. Then Leonard remembers how, just a few weeks ago, Jim was running around the dorm with a bowl of instant noodles in his hands and strands of noodles dangling from his mouth and clinging to his chin, yelling across the room for Leonard to help him find his socks. And then there was him, telling Jim to find his goddamned socks himself from the couch with a fork dangling from his lips and a mouthful of pie a la mode.  
   
Graceful creatures, that’s what they are, Leonard thinks to himself sarcastically; the epitome of elegance and refinement.  
   
Leonard shakes his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing. I think I have a plan, and as much as it pains me to say this, Spock, I'm gonna need your help.”  
   
Spock’s eyebrow goes flying up under his bangs so quickly that Leonard half expects it to shoot up past Spock’s hair and into the air.  
   
\--  
   
Standing outside Jim’s dorm, he pulls out a package of store-bought mini peach tarts from his bag and opens it. Stuffing one into his mouth, he saunters into the room. Jim immediately looks over from the couch to greet him, “Hey, Bones. What’s with the tarts? Feeling homesick?”  
   
“Don’t tell Spock,” is his immediate response. “I’m not homesick. The hobgoblin’s making me go on this healthy diet thing with him, and of course, my first instinct was to go buy something sweet and unhealthy to spite him.”  
   
Jim raises a brow. “Really? He didn’t tell me about this diet of his. Well, I guess he  _did_  offer me some fancy looking salad with maple syrup dressing, but that was about it.”  
   
“Now, why would  _anyone_  ask you to go on  _any_  kind of diet? Just look at you! You’re already too skinny for your own good,” he grumbles. “So, anyways, for reasons I can’t think of, I agreed to it. Problem is, now that I’ve bought these mini spite-tarts, they’re just gonna tempt me, so I need you to hide them from me—these and all the future hate-snacks I’m bound to buy until I tell you otherwise.”  
   
“Can do,” Jim says breezily, taking the package away from him. “Just leave it to me, Bones.”  
   
Much to Leonard’s annoyance, he finds the package on top of the fridge the next day. It’s practically out in the open, and now, to spite  _Jim_ , he has to eat every last one of those tarts.  
   
He wishes he’d bought less filling snacks.  
   
\--  
   
Leonard’s lying on the couch, feeling on the verge of vomiting mini peach tarts whole when Jim shows up. He rolls onto his side and groans, “I may throw up on you.”  
   
“Again? Does it bother you that we seem to threaten to vomit on each other a lot more often than normal best pals and something mores?” Furrowing his brows, Jim disappears into the kitchen for a moment before returning with the empty package in hand. “Bones, did you eat  _all_  the peach tarts? I thought you were supposed to be dieting with Spock.”  
   
“And I thought you were supposed to hide them from me,” he snaps back.  
   
“I did!” Jim protests.  
   
“Well I guess you just majorly suck at hiding things then. Putting stuff on top of the fridge doesn’t count as hiding something, you infant,” he grumbles, feeling like death.  
   
Jim arches a brow and says matter-of-factly, “Yeah, well, if  _you_  weren’t such a spiteful person and an apparent pig, I wouldn’t have had to hide these in the first place.”  
   
As much as he wants to say, ‘it was all for you, you ungrateful sack of shit’, he settles for giving Jim the finger and the dirtiest look he can muster.  
   
Shaking his head, Jim sits down next to him with an unsympathetic “There, there, Bones. It’ll pass.”  
   
Leonard wants nothing more than to punch him, but Jim's letting him use his lap as a makeshift pillow while he watches TV so he resists the urge—for now.  
   
“I don’t even like peaches that much,” Leonard complains later, when his body takes a break from hating him.  
   
Blue eyes widen. “What? You  _don’t_? But you’re from  _Georgia_! How’s that even possible?”  
   
He snorts, amused. “I like them in homemade cobblers, but that’s about it. Way to stereotype me, Jim. You’re from Iowa, so does that mean you like corn?”  
   
“Yes! I  _love_  corn! I’ll have you know that it’s among my favourite foods, and I would happily eat it for the rest of my life. It’s like, the perfect food! It’s easy to prepare, not particularly expensive, they can be festive or just casual, and they keep really well. What’s there  _not_  to like? And how can you not like peaches? I think you just broke my heart a little, Bones. Even Spock likes maple syrup!”  
   
“Are you saying that your fondness for me is directly correlated to my love for a fruit and my fulfillment of a certain stereotype?” he asks with an arched brow.  
   
“No—maybe a little,” Jim answers with a helpless shrug. “You made such a good stereotype. You were like a poster southern gentleman. I had it all planned out: you’d represent the south, Spock, the north, and me, the in-between! I even photoshopped a picture of Spock sitting on a moose with a Mountie uniform on and holding a Canadian flag!”  
   
Leonard can't help but laugh at the mental image. “Is that right? You’re gonna have to show me this ‘Canadian Spock’ picture. Does Spock know about it? I bet we make him question his choice in friends all the time.”   
  
“Yeah, but at the end of the day, he still loves us.”  
  
“But continuing on this topic of stereotypes…. You know, now that I think about it, I’m not particularly fond of fried chicken or sweet tea either,” he says, just to rile Jim up.  
   
It works and Jim looks absolutely _horrified_. “Don’t even say that, Bones.”  
   
With a malicious grin, Leonard adds, “And I fucking  _hate_  grits.”  
   
At this point, Jim’s covered his ears and refuses to listen to him anymore.  
   
\--  
   
The next day, he buys a pack of oatmeal cookies and tosses it over to Jim and tells him, “Hide these. And none of that on top of the fridge shit this time.”  
   
“Will do,” Jim replies with a salute.  
   
There’s no ‘on top of the fridge shit’ this time, but there  _is_  ‘under Jim’s bed shit’ which is just as bad if not worse.  
   
Leonard smartens up this time though, and instead of eating them all by himself and wanting lightning to strike him dead afterwards (again), he brings them over to the field where he finds Christine and Carol jogging. They spot him and make their way over. “What’re you doing here, Leonard? After all these semesters, have you finally decided to join us? I hate to break it to you, but jeans don’t count as proper jogging attire,” Christine says, her long hair pulled back into an athletic ponytail.  
   
“Ladies,” he greets them and pulls the cookies out, “care for an oatmeal cookie or two or perhaps half a dozen?”  
   
Christine arches a brow. “Did you come all the way out here just to offer us cookies? Are you trying to flirt with Carol or something? Don’t be so greedy, Leonard. You’re not that great and you’ve already got Jim.”  
   
“Of course I’m not here to flirt,” he retorts. Then he quickly turns to Carol and says, “No offense intended, sweetheart.”  
   
“None taken,” Carol replies easily, taking a cookie. “Oh, these are brilliant. Try one, Christine.”  
   
“Yeah, try one, Christine,” he agrees, shooting her a pointed look. “There’s no trans-fat and they're low in sodium and cholesterol and all that healthy jazz. I need you to help me finish them.”  
   
“All of them? Why?” Carol asks.  
   
“You know, eating cookies is counterproductive to jogging,” Christine grumbles, reaching for another one.  
   
“It’s all part of my plan to help Jim regain a little weight,” he tells them, eating another cookie himself.  
   
Carol looks skeptical. “And how do you plan on pulling that off? Are you going to transfer the weight we gain over to him via osmosis or are you just hoping he’ll gain a few sympathy pounds after looking at us?”  
   
Leonard snorts. “Of course not. You’re in molecular biology, you should know better than that. I’m trying to get him to eat more by making him take up snacking.”  
   
“That sounds like a nice plan and all, but in case you didn’t notice, Leonard, we’re the ones snacking right now, not Jim,” Carol says.  
   
“You molecular biologists are always so damn cheeky,” he mutters with no real annoyance in his voice. “Just trust me, okay? I’m just doing a bit of prep work right now.”  
   
Carol studies him for a moment before shrugging. “Fine, but next time, buy Jelly Babies or Frazzles, okay?”  
   
He turns to Christine and asks, “Jelly Babies? Frazzles? She’s just mashing words and syllables together, isn’t she?”  
   
“They’re British things,” Christine replies, “isn’t she just the cutest?”  
   
“Ah, British things. I’ll try to keep that in mind for next time,” he says.  
   
“We must look very peculiar to the other students; the three of us huddled around on the side of the field and nibbling on biscuits like this,” Carol notes.  
   
“A very astute observation, Carol, but the rest of the student body can just mind their own business,” Leonard grumbles. “Lord knows they need to learn how to stop being so damn nosy.”  
   
Carol turns to Christine and says, “I don’t know, Christine, I think he’s rather charming.” She takes another treat. “And he comes with biscuits. I quite like him.”  
   
Christine promptly chokes on her cookie and spits half of it back out.  
   
Then Carol glances over at him and adds, “And definitely a role-player—maybe one with a masochistic streak.”  
   
Leonard fumbles and drops the cookie in his hand and points an accusing finger at Christine. “Dammit, Chapel, stop speculating about my sex life with other people! It’s not a topic for public discussion!”  
   
“I can’t help it if you’re going out with  _Jim Kirk_ —who’s only the  _least_  vanilla guy ever!” she retorts.  
   
“What does that even mean!?”  
   
Carol just smiles and eats another cookie.  
   
\--  
   
 ** _16:21, L. McCoy to J. Kirk:_**

_[Picture Attached]_  
  
  
 **_16:21, L. McCoy to J. Kirk:_ **

_Under your bed doesn’t count as ‘hiding’ either, dumbass._  
   
\--  
   
Jim starts taking the challenge of hiding the hate snacks more seriously after that. But over the next few days, Leonard, with his Jim-mind reading skills, still manages to find the food and coerces the others into helping him finish it. And every single time, being the mature young adult that he is, he’d send Jim a picture of the empty packaging to goad.  
   
“You know, I think everyone except Jim’s gaining weight from this,” Hikaru tells him in the mess, nibbling on a stroopwafel.  
   
“Will this really help Jim?” Pavel asks.  
   
He arches an unimpressed brow at the pair. “Are you two gonna just sit there and doubt me or are you gonna help me eat these?”  
   
Pavel immediately turns his gaze downward and continues eating, looking thoroughly chastised. In turn, Leonard feels absolutely terrible for snapping at the kid, so he grabs a waffle and shoves it in his mouth.  
   
“Will this really help Jim?” Pavel asks again, less defiant this time. “I am also worried about him.”  
   
Leonard nods. “Yeah, it’ll help him. You just wait and see, kid. Jim will be back to his normal size in no time, and he’ll be able to sling you over his shoulders and jump over people again— _without_  cracking any of your ribs with his bony shoulders.”  
   
“How exciting! I am looking forward to it!” Pavel beams and Leonard can’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair. However, he’ll deny all accusations of his insides turning to goo when Pavel tilts his head down for more optimal petting.  
   
Hikaru shoots him an unreadable look and Leonard asks, “What? You want a hair ruffle too?”  
   
When Hikaru doesn’t answer, Leonard reaches out and ruffles his hair anyway.  
   
“I feel like I’ve been hanging around Jim too much,” he reflects afterwards, staring at his hand like it betrayed him.  
   
“Oh, you definitely have, McCoy,” Hikaru replies, fixing his tousled hair. “You most definitely have.”  
   
Pavel smiles. “Did you know that stroopwafel were invented in Russia?”  
   
\--  
   
Much to his delight, Jim finally manages to successfully hide a bag of trail mix from him a few days later. Before he can completely turn their rooms inside out, his phone shouts _"Text!"_ and he gets a text message from Spock who’s having a physics party with Jim.  
   
  
 ** _13:37, S. Spock to L. McCoy:_**

 _There_ _seem_ _s to be a bag of varied snack food in Jim’s bag._  
   
 ** _13:38, L. McCoy to S. Spock:_**

 _Good_ _,_   _that’s my trail mix._ _Remember what we planned? Ask for some and make sure he keeps it out._  
   
 ** _13:49, S. Spock to L. McCoy:_**

 _It would appear that your plan is proving_ _to be effective. Jim_ _has begun_ _subconsciously eating._  
   
 ** _13:50, L. McCoy to S. Spock:_**

 _Yeah, it’s called snacking._  
   
 ** _13:50, L. McCoy to S. Spock:_**

 _Fascinating._  
   
 ** _13:50, S. Spock to L. McCoy:_**

 _Fascinating._  
   
 ** _13:50, L. McCoy to S. Spock:_**

 _Beat you to it, eh?  
_  
   
Spock doesn’t respond.  
   
Leonard rereads his message later and decides that he’s definitely spending too much time with Jim.  
   
\--  
   
He buys a bag of kettle corn the next day and shrugs when Jim raises a brow at him. “Bones, I think this impulsive hate snack shopping thing’s becoming a problem.”  
   
Leonard narrows his eyes. “What? I couldn’t find my trail mix so I went and bought kettle corn. You got an issue with this?”  
   
“Yes,” Jim sighs, taking the bag away. “And no, you’re never seeing your trail mix ever again. I’ve hidden it somewhere so secret that not even your crazy mind reading skills will be able to find it.”  
   
He merely arches a brow and crosses his arms. “Seriously, you’re just gonna take it away from me? Who gave you the right?”  
   
Jim gives him the look of a patronizing adult dealing with a whiny child. “You did. And considering how many  _entire_   _packages_  of snacks you’ve devoured lately, I think it’s safe to say that you’ve had more than enough; anymore and you’ll start packing on weight. It can’t be healthy for you.”  
   
“You.  _You_  of all people are going to lecture me on my health and weight,” he snorts.  
   
“Bones,” Jim sighs.  
   
Leonard frowns. “Don’t you ‘Bones’ me, Jim Kirk,” he grumbles, “especially not after taking away my kettle corn like that. The love’s run dry in this relationship and we don’t even have official relationship titles yet.”  
   
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” Jim says, pressing a kiss to his lips. “There’s still plenty of love and we’ll come up with something. I’m taking away your kettle corn because I  _care_.”  
   
“Bullshit. Did you know that Spock makes Nyota packed lunches? Hell, I bet he even smiles and whistles while he makes it—surrounded by happy woodland creatures and whatnot.” There’s no doubt that he’s whining now, but that it’s only fair that he gets to play the part of the immature one every once in awhile too, he reasons.  
   
Jim raises a brow. “They also act out traditional Vulcan plays and go tap dancing together for fun. If you wanted to do couple-y things, you could’ve just said so, Bones. We could sign up for cooking classes together if you’d like, or we could try doing yoga again.”  
   
“Don’t mock me, kid. You know I’m not flexible  _at all_. I can’t even touch my toes for god’s sake,” Leonard sighs. “As far as I’m concerned, the only exercise I need is chasing you down the halls when it’s time for your booster shots. If I can manage that, I’m fine.”  
   
“According to Pike, seeing you chase me down the hallway during first year was when he knew we’d end up together. Did you know? Someone taped it and uploaded it online on the engineering blog that only select people, mostly engineers, read—with me being one of them, of course. They even put this brilliant ‘Let me love you’ caption underneath. It’s  _hilarious_! Oh, and the title is ‘Our Beloved Medic’ if that makes you feel any better. I'll have to show it to you some time.”  
   
He buries his face in his hands and mutters, “I don’t know what I find more disturbing, you talking to Pike about your love life or finding out that I’ve become an internet meme. And for the record, I’m well aware that it was Scotty and Gaila that filmed it. Who came up with the caption?”  
   
“Sulu. He said it after Chekov showed him. Chekov thought it was  _hilarious_  so he made the gif.”  
   
“Those cheeky brats,” he growls, sulking. “I need better friends—and a better Jim.”  
   
Jim’s eyebrows go up as he chuckles. “Oh? Friends, you might be able to replace, but I doubt you’ll find a better Jim than yours truly right here. Would it make you feel better if I gave you a little bit of kettle corn?”  
   
It really would, so he holds his hand out and says, “Yes. Gimme. Now.”  
   
“Fine. Even though you didn’t say please, I’ll give you some just because I love you that much,” Jim tells him and sprinkles a couple pieces onto his hand then proceeds to hide the bag away somewhere.  
   
Leonard stares at the few measly pieces of popcorn in his hand for a long minute. He redirects his glare at Jim when he returns to the room and takes a couple and pops them into his mouth with a shit-eating grin.  
   
“I know. I’m such an enabler sometimes,” Jim says, with his mouth half full of popcorn. “It’s terrible, right?”  
   
“You suck— _so_   _much_ ,” he replies and promptly shoves the remaining pieces in his mouth before Jim can swoop in take more.  
   
Jim laughs and pulls him over to the couch. “You’re so adorable when you’re being all grumpy like this.”  
   
“Grumpy?  _Grumpy_? I think I’ve earned the right to be ‘ _grumpy’_  with all the crap I put up with from you,” he growls. “I hate you so much sometimes. Why do I even keep you around?”  
   
“Because you love me and I’m awesome?” Jim offers. “Oh, hey, this will cheer you up. Guess what Spock said today?”  
   
“What?” Leonard asks.  
   
“We were talking about how shitty our kitchen units in the dorm rooms were and he said his garburator was broken.”  
   
A wave of childish delight surges through him at the thought of Spock saying anything even remotely Canadian-esque. “No, he didn’t.”  
   
Jim grins. “Yes, he did. Of course, he realized what he said and corrected himself immediately after. But the deed’s been done, and I believe if I hack into the security feed like I did last time, we’ll be able to watch it right here and now.”  
   
He does his best to keep his expression neutral when he says, “Okay, fine, I guess you’re worth the trouble sometimes.”  
   
Smiling, Jim gives him a kiss. “Anything for you, Bonesy”  
   
\--  
   
Jim continues confiscating and devouring Leonard’s snacks for the next week and a half until he steps out of the bathroom one day and exclaims, “Hey, Bones, guess what? I’m back to my normal weight!”  
   
Leonard’s standing by the door with a pity-chocolate chip banana muffin that Nyota had made for him. “Oh, thank god. It’s about time,” he sighs, shoulders sagging with relief.  
   
“I know what you did there, getting me to snack on healthy-ish food like that until I got my appetite back. I should’ve realized something was up when you didn’t get pissed off at me and started buying stuff I’m allergic to,” Jim tells him with a small smile. “Thanks. You’re going to make a great doctor someday, Doctor Bones.”  
   
His lips curl into a crooked smile. “You’re welcome—just don’t ever do it again.”  
   
Then Jim’s eyes fall onto his muffin and he licks his lips. “You know, now that I’ve got my appetite back, that muffin looks  _delicious_.”  
   
He frowns and cradles the muffin to his chest. “Nuh-uh. No way. Nyota made this for me. You’ve already eaten all my other food, so fuck off, I’m not sharing with you anymore. This is  _my_  pity-muffin.”  
   
There’s a challenging gleam in Jim’s eyes as he stalks forward. “Oh yeah?”  
   
Leonard will never understand how Jim’s so damn flexible, and in the end, he loses half of his treat despite the fight he puts up. Staring mournfully at his pity-muffin, he eats what’s left of it and announces, “I hate you so much. Somebody needs to get me a new Jim— _now_.”  
   
“I love you too, Bones.” Licking his fingers clean, Jim grins, unfazed by his words. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” Then he leans in and gives Leonard a peck on the cheek. The gesture would’ve been sweet if he didn’t leave a smear of chocolate and crumbs on his face afterwards.  
   
Leonard scowls and tackles Jim onto the couch.  
   
He inwardly jumps for joy when the only bruises he gets are from Jim’s knees and elbows this time.  
   
\--  
   
The next day, Leonard finds a paper bag sitting on the tabletop waiting for him next to his tumbler of coffee. Inside the bag, he finds a sandwich, store-bought cookies, a juice box, and a note written on the back of a ‘Canadian Spock’ card.  
   
 _‘Doctor Bones,_  
   
 _I’ll have you know that there was plenty of smiling and whistling involved in the making of this lunch._  
   
 _Full of love,  
The best Jim in the world’_  
   
The note leaves him smiling all the way to class.  
   
\--  
   
 ** _09_** ** _:_** ** _32_** ** _, L. McCoy to J. Kirk:_**

_I guess I’ll keep you._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Canada Day! Because what better way to celebrate Canada Day than with Canadian Spock?
> 
>    
> The awesome art:  
> [Canadian Spock - By: Kelli](http://letseatthestars.tumblr.com/post/54523241585/i-even-photoshopped-a-picture-of-spock-sitting-on)
> 
> And of course, the awesome gif thanks to the internet:  
> [#Let Me Love You!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_memgi3BUKz1rll10co1_500.gif)


End file.
